


Dirt

by TwistedNym



Series: Tribulation [9]
Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedNym/pseuds/TwistedNym
Summary: In another life, Thomas would have been worried because Maven looks pale and not really healthy. He would have urged for help or given a hug. All he feels now is a creeping cold, accompanied by an unsettling uncertainty.He can't follow the words or the very court expression on Maven's face.It's like someone translated the whole world and put it upside down.





	1. Dirt

Whenever he stares at the words on the screen of his phone or the laptop, there's one part anger and two parts lies spreading in front of him.

He always knew people can be true monsters, no claws or spikes required. There's the worst of the worst bottling in the small cone of interests.

There's a lot of nasty stuff about Barrow or Farley. Even some sort of mugshots from their faces, hair dirty and smeared with ashes and blood.

Mostly Barrow though, because the girl is born and raised in this city and it makes digging up dirt much easier. And also she's in the sights of another person altogether.

Oh, pretty boy, Thomas thinks, repeating the disappointment experience tour cause it's so much fun.

He can imagine the voice perfectly fine when he reads the words. They are crafted with the same careful intention as the flattery the night they broke things once and for all. They are rational and diplomatic, plugging a string and poking just right.

That's when he knows he's looked at too many things and turns down the internet for the rest of the night to catch at least some sleep.

It's not like he sleeps much anyway, not at night at least. Once upon a time, mere weeks ago he stayed up at night to be there for someone he loved. Now he stays up because he likes to be alone. He was never much of a crowd person, sure he went somewhere like concerts and stuff, but mostly because other people wanted or just to spite and show that he would. Younger Thomas was an idiot. Well, he still is an idiot. At least he knows it now.

There are two or three hours in the early morning, with the sun still down, when the world seems to stand still. It's like everyone takes a last deep breath, bracing themselves for another cruel business day.

Sometimes all Thomas does is sit on the tiny windowsill, little squashed, long limbs pulled up and crossed to fit.

He doesn't listen to music. He doesn't do a dramatic smoke in the dark. He just sits and stares, sorting through his head. Because despite whatever daylight Thomas says or how he smiles, there's a hole in his chest and it's hurting.

On some rare occasions, he's outside, tagging along with the people that use their spray bottles to leave messages and pictures over the city.

But those guys and gals are fast and climbing like monkeys. They are nice enough, and they clearly have some respect because they like his works. He rarely sees a face behind a scarf pulled over a nose or a hood deep in a face, but he knows them by now. You remember the way someone moves, especially when that's all you really can rely on. They are like a flock of crows, all dressed black, flying over roofs and down alleys.

He likes the way the wind flows around their heads and the city pulses when they run. He likes the feeling of being alive. But he's still not sure he could do it every night. He is only weight on their ankles.

"Hey Inky, " one of the says, because of the flames and the steel that blink through whenever his sleeves get pushed up a little. For a second Thomas sees a small stripe of dark skin and hair when his hood is pushed back. "Need to be careful now. Tower territory isn't safe since that night."

"Yeah, I know. Was on the streets." He says, checking his boot. Thomas has the agile gracefulness of a giraffe sliding over ice most times. Another reason he isn't tagging along too often. Not that he couldn't run or climb. Street rat days still stick, but he's gotten lazier since he can spend his day in bed. And he just doesn't look parcoury or cool while doing it. Just like the rabbit he is he dashes away.

"And got out? Had a friend, still in prison."

"Sucks," Thomas answers remembering the stench and the full cell.

There's the faintest glimmering of a headlight in the distance. If you break curfew there's a big chance you get hurt badly. They don't really care about excuses.

Last years living on the street was beefy. Nowadays the nights are even crueler. At least he knows Cameron has a place to stay.

"Move  _move_ ," someone whispers. And they do it. Fast.

Some very rare times he gets calls at night. Never from one person in particular. But more of a mixed bag. Whenever he gets the urge to reach out and destroy his fragile balance he puts the phone away and stares at it like it's a bomb that needs to be defused.

"I thought about calling." He tells Cameron the next day. "Because it freaking hurts. Maybe..."

" Maybe you are a moron." She just scowls.

Sometimes she hits him. He wants to hug her. The days she stays are the least lonely.

He's a little surprised, but in a positive way when a certain sparky girl calls him.

"Changed your mind about talking it out, did you, Lightning?" He says, sitting in his usual spot, hugging his blanket because it's turning autumn and 'his skinny ass' as Cameron likes to say, gets cold fast.

"Not really. Not like you want to. What IS there to say we both don't know?"

"As someone being royally screwed by him, in more than one way, I'd say there's a lot more you can spill."

"And what? Cry? Do you want us to sit on a bed the whole night and talk about all the ways he mistreated you?"

Talk about attitude, Thomas thinks but smiles into the darkness. "Nah, not really. I have sisters. Been there done that. No fun, really. And I suck at braids. Just well, you let it go. Told you, being bottled up is no good."

The long boiling pause speaks for itself. "He pretended to be my friend. He was considerate and nice and he listened to everything."

Thomas doesn't dare to say anything. Not when he was the one walking away when Maven was considerate of him. Oh boy, he thinks, what if? Always what if.

"And then I took him with me and he played me."

"Don't sweat it, " Thomas stares out of the window into the light polluted sky. Smog and no stars. Then he shifts on the small windowsill, long legs drawn up to his chest. "He was kinda lonely. So I think at least some parts were true. And I...he said he was in love with you."

"He told you that?"

"So you know."

She doesn't answer his assumption. "But you two have history."

"Oh girl," Thomas chuckles to cloak his hoarse voice. "Do we have history. Told you. Royally screwed. Can't say I did nothing wrong tho. Tried to come back and at least be a friend."

"Risky guess," she sounds just as dark and dry as he feels. "It did not work."

"You know it," Thomas says. " Remember? I'm in too deep. Whatever was going on never really hit it off. I mean, there was some truth. Just not big enough."

Static noise and her footsteps. He looks out of the window again and wonders where she is. If she's alone. Probably, she wouldn't talk to him about something so deep and personal if someone was watching. She's hard on the outside, not letting it show. Thomas pushes himself into functioning normally enough every day to notice everyone likes to pretend they are better or stronger than they truly are.

That's the deal. You get over it or get eaten.

"You don't wanna lie down on my couch and want to be emotional, you don't."

"Appreciated."

"Cool. So you don't want to talk it out," Thomas says, leaning back. "And we are no besties. So why call in the dead of night?"

"You've known him for a while."

"Yeah, so? What's that matter?" he snorts. " I did think I know him. Not sure anymore. "

"Look, you said we were on the same side, Thomas. And I don't think he is done. So why don't you use-"

"That's why you call? To ask me for a little dirt?" He sighs. "Lightning, I admire you, you're cool. I love my friends and I hate how this is going. But no."

He doesn't even know why. Maybe it's just idiot Thomas doing his thing. Maybe it's just stuck under his skin.  _In fact, I consider you the only remotely trustworthy person around me at the moment._

Not like he'd deserve Thomas acting like the gate keeper to the hell of his secrets and attitudes. He wishes he could be angry instead of stupid sad. Channel a bit of that Cookie Cameron, he thinks. Or a little Lightning. They aren't shy to let it go and tell people off.

Instead, he laughs it off like always until no one is watching.

Time has a very strange effect. Especially when the rest of the world moves along without caring much about the things that go on in your head. Some things get hazy, better than they really were. Sometimes he wonders about all the what ifs. Of course that is fruitless.

The hollow hole stays in his chest. He gets along somehow. Just as the world.

At least his friends are relatively safe compared to the big bang. There's some sort of collective sigh, a preparation for the next big battle. And oh, the battle will come. As someone standing on the sidelines he's not sure what to make of it. Technically it's his fight too. It's not like he doesn't want to.

He feels like a spectator. Doesn't sit so right. Like he's floating over his body watching the room.

Maybe that's why he tries to hang out with Barrow again. Or maybe it's just to soothe his guilty conscience because he thought some mean shit when he was jealous.

She picks him up one evening . They don't talk. Walking in silence alongside, hands in pockets, kicking pebbles. Keeping an eye out for trouble.

The house is more like a creepy cabin at the outskirts of the city. Creaking door and dark hall and all. But it's not so bad compared to anything Thomas has ever lived in.

"Nice hideout." Thomas whistles through his teeth. "Nicer than my place."

Mare throws her bag at the couch. "It's temporary. But yeah."

When Thomas turns around, he's faced with someone he's been rather actively avoiding.

Thomas stares at Cal in rabbit heart terror.

For the longest of moments, none of them move.

"Lightning," Thomas says. "Didn't tell me you had a visitor. I can go if you don't-eh."

" No ill feelings, Thomas." Cal answers. "In fact, I live here."

"Oh." There's a very strong indication behind that words. Not living at home. Instead of hiding with the poster girl of rebellion. "He shit on you too?"

"On everything by now." Cal answers. " He and his mother seized control. And they didn't wait before our father's body was cold."

"Sorry to hear. And sorry cause.. y'know. Your father. And... Liking someone who's hurting you is always shitty."

Cal looks like he bites on granite the way his teeth are grinding behind his closed mouth.

"Thank you, Thomas."

Thomas makes a helpless huff.

He stands still for a moment, unsure if he should follow. But Barrow just sits down on the table. So he just takes the place next to her and is surprised to find himself in the 'Maven tossed us away' sandwich, perched together.

Maybe this will become regular. Like a book club.

There's an as blaring out from the speakers of a laptop on the table.

Thomas doesn't have time to ask what he's watching on a live stream platform.

" _We're back from our short break,_ " a pretty girl says and Thomas remembers faintly something about her having some kind of video channel, all fancy and successful. She's some kind of internet celebrity. His sister used to eat her stuff despite her being silver. She's drop-dead gorgeous, of course, with dark skin and long floaty hair, perfect fit. There's something so false and fake about her he never could watch more than a few seconds.

In another life, Thomas would have been worried because Maven looks pale and not really healthy. He would have urged for help or given a hug. All he feels now is a creeping cold, accompanied by an unsettling uncertainty.

He can't follow the words or the very court expression on Maven's face.

It's like someone translated the whole world into a foreign language and put it upside down.

" _But weren't you and your brother friends with Mare Barrow?_ " the girl asks innocent enough, playing coy. " _I think we can agree we're here for that evening at the towers. If you want to talk about it. I know it was bad for me, it was unexpected and frightening when the shots went off._ "

There's havoc in the chat window next to the stream. He sees some red suns sprinkled in, but it's mostly wild questions by the way question marks and capslock flies by.

" _It was a very disturbing evening._ " Maven says.

"Disturbing?" Barrow asks, hollow.

Cal just breathes very slow, staring at his brother.

Thomas can empathize.

 _"If people actually believe a word from a terrorist group that makes a mentally unstable and dangerously angry girl their figurehead, a girl that was involved in murder, responsible for all of this destruction, burning a whole tower and planting bombs_ ," Maven says straight into the camera, pausing, and Thomas didn't know he could be so dramatically intense. Well studied act. He thinks about the times Maven internally seemed to freak and overclock in a full room and talked about social calls. How things change. " _They are either naive or blind. The riots have proven the that despite their claims, the Scarlet Guard is not fighting for any rights. They are not negotiating. They are not asking. They are demanding. And they just demand death and blood. They don't want anything but cold war and the annihilation of silver blood. They claim to be fighting for freedom. They are not_."

People eating him up in the chat. The girl smiles.

"Yeah," Thomas mutters. "Piss in their boots and tell them it's raining, pretty boy."

He's the only one saying a word. Thomas dares to look at the faces next to him.

Barrow looks like she's about to explode. Her face is a mask barely cloaking her anger and hatred, but there's something else and he remembers the way she spoke on the phone and how the energy drained out the first time he tried to talk it out with her.

He does not dare to say anything to her.

" _As for my brother_ -'

To his other side, Cal shifts in his seat.

By the looks of it, he's not as vicious as Barrow, but he's far from calm.

Oh boy, Thomas thinks. Maven better never set a foot close to one of them. He'll be dead in no time.

" _My brother chose his side. It pains me to admit that, it really does._ " Liar, liar, pants on fire, Thomas thinks and feels the need to scrub his skin with bleach.

"  _But he didn't choose the right one. He had such a promising future. People call him a traitor. And perhaps that is how we should address the issue. Turning on his own people. Who would have thought-_ '

"Okay," Thomas pushes the button and the laptop dies, with a last white flickering face of Maven's face. "Enough. All in for self-hate and pain. But this is enough."

This is going way too far. Way. This isn't at all the disturbed boy telling him not to leave him alone. This isn't the hands that let him stay when he was homeless and shivering.

It's like needles under his skin. And not the kind Thomas enjoys there.

"Please tell me you have something to drink in your hideout. Cause if I ever wanted to get black drunk and fucked up, it's now."

The club acquires a bottle and Thomas just burns away the very poor rest of his taste buds.

There's a very elaborate boiling silence, hanging over their heads like a dark cloud.

At least Barrow keeps up with drinking.

"He didn't say a word about you." Mare watches Thomas with that clown look again. "He never does, really. He mentioned you once and it wasn't much. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought you were dead."

Thomas drinks and coughs. "Why would he tho? He always kept me hush hush. No need to pull me out of the closet if no one knows."

"True enough," Cal says, arms crossed, leaning back. " It would hurt him more than help. People could make the wrong.. assumption."

"Right dude," Thomas toasts him even if he doesn't feel like it. "Doesn't line up with us poor devils being the problem if people knew he used to smooch one. Also, I'm clearly not some pretty girl. Doesn't help the conservative run." Thomas drinks the rest of the glass and shudders. The taste is mean. But it's allowed if it makes him feel better. He doesn't feel like stopping. " I mean he could pull the mean card on me leaving. But that would be very personal. And good old Mom always wanted me to be gone. So win-win if I stay quiet."

"Good old Mom." Mare takes the bottle out if Thomas' hands.

"I met her once. That's enough for a life time." Thomas says, and for the longest while the thought of her on the bench doesn't even make him angry.

There's just a snort from Cal's side of the table and Thomas chuckles and drinks.

His phone makes a plopping sound in his pocket.

Maybe his sister is wondering where he's at. It's past curfew. He didn't tell her he would stay away.

It's the unknown number he never even bother to label. There's just one other message from weeks ago, saying it found the cockatrice.

Thomas slides the notification away and doesn't read it. Then he puts his phone down on the table.

"Give the bottle back, Lightning. Sharing is caring." He says instead.

"You lost this fight before it has begun," Cal says from his corner.

"You underestimate me, good sir." Barrow doesn't look too fazed by his half-assed attempt to grab it. "I never know when to stop."

A little tug of war breaks out before Thomas gets to have the bottle and his phone plops again.

"Someone seems eager to talk to you."

"Eh." Thomas is at least glad he never labeled the name to the number. Or this friendly evening would be over NOW. "You know how it is, dude. People always want something. Oh, almost forgot." Thomas leans down to his old trusty bag and pulls a folder out. Thomas has spent some time thinking about the things he read, and wehn he couldn't shake it off, he decided to let it go in the only way he ever learned to cope. Putting her on his skin was out of question. But paper, or at least drawing, that seemed like a good idea.

"Y'know, Lightning, you're all over the place. But those pictures are meh or seriously only meant to be mean. So I thought, if you want, I got something for you. Cause you're cool."

"Thomas, you can stop telling me that," Mare says and gives him the tiniest of huffs.

"Just take it," Cal answers. "He means it."

"Eh, of course I do?" Thomas slides to folder over to her.

"I hope I got you right," he scratches his nose. "I mean, I got it on the laptop, obviously, so I can change stuff, but I grew up on paper, so I..dunno. Wanted to give it to you."

"I knew you were good." Cal says, staring at her face in black and white, illuminated by some sort of high voltage sign in the background.

"That's-" Barrow starts and his phone interupts in a chime now. "Goddamit, Thomas. Answer or turn it off."

Turning it off would be healthy. There was almost something relaxed between them. He almost saw them smile.

"I think I need to step out for a second. Play nice." Thomas swallows hard on a bitter taste in his mouth.

The air kisses his skin in a cool whisper. He just closes the door and answers the call.

Maven doesn't wait for Thomas to say anything. "I don't like being ignored, Thomas."

Thomas only reaction is a deep breath. "Didn't I tell you not to pop up again until you had it under control?"

"I consider myself very much in control."

Thomas makes the loudest fart sound he can muster.

" And I also figured you would still be angry." Maven's voice sounds stiff and cold.

"Nice show," Thomas mocks. "Really, super convincing."

"Thank you, Thomas." Someone says the second time this evening and it could not be more indifferent and in a much more stark contrast to his brother.

"You got some low blows out." Thomas leans against the wall, holding his head not to lose it." Talking trash about Barrow. Seriously. And your brother too? Like.. the only person in your family supportive enough?!"

"I didn't mention you, so don't worry about your reputation."

"Ahahahah. Repu _what_?" Thomas snorts, thinking how he had the same discussion. " I got  _nothing_  you can destroy. Try me, pretty boy."

"Confidence." Maven acknowledges. "You sound drunk."

"Even if I were so drunk I'd dance bare-assed on the moon." Thomas can't stop the irritating feeling creeping up his spine. "I mean it. Stop the smear campaign, silver prince. Or I forget I still like you and join in. Can't imagine you want that."

"You wouldn't."

"Why? Cause I love you? Thanks for reminding me. Almost forgot."

"No, because you are kind, Thomas."

"Fuck being kind. Fight fire with fire or whatever they say." He doesn't bother to ask why Maven even called.  
He just hangs up and turns his phone off. Taking deep breaths. Trying not to puke.


	2. Mud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is kind of a direct continuation of that evening I decided to post it as a second chapter.

The evening ends as one can expect. The bottle is empty but Thomas isn't done. It's the middle of the week and thanks to the kind of control their favorite liar and his mother have over too many aspects of their lives and the city, they decide it's not really a good idea to make a move if they don't have a very good plan. Somewhere along the road of too much too drink and talking nonsense to keep the bad mood off, Barrow and Cal move a little closer together. They don't touch but that's not the point. They are used to be brushing along the edges of one another's comfort zones.

Thomas isn't blind enough to ignore that something that's going between them. And he doesn't comment when they move to sleep into the same room. None of his business. At least they have something to hold onto when the dreams get worse and the sleep won't come.

People get what they need, he guesses. He's not jealous. They fit alright. Like all the times he watches his rebel parents he can't just stop thinking if he's just not compatible. If something is wrong with his head if the only person he really wants to be with is doing no good. They push and pull and hurt. It's gotta be me, he thinks. Who could love a mess like Thomas?

Something normal would be nice. Like, hugging under a blanket and laughing at his jokes. Eat unhealthy food and talk about shit. Someone easy on the eyes, someone simple and good. No emotional baggage weighing so heavy there's not even a normal conversation.

He just curls together on a couch again. Oh, couch crashing. It always seems to bring back the worst thoughts and the losses.

He feels just lonely and the hole just a hollow jump into nothingness at the prospect of staying alone. He wonders what Maven was about to say on the phone. And if it has any meaning at All.

When he lies in the darkness he turns his phone on again.

He reads the messages.

Nothing much. Senseless blubbering about how ridiculous he's behaving for going through with his threat of ignoring Maven. Then there's sugar coating, apologies that twist the problems and words in Maven's favor. There's no regret. There's nothing really. He gives a rat shit about Thomas. He just can't stand to lose. There are flattery and thinly veiled threats.

Thomas is stuck with a bitter breath, half laughing, half wanting to cry before he deletes it all.

He doesn't write back. They made their calls. Now they need to wait for the next bluff.

And then the cards get on the table.

Thomas isn't sure he has the better ones, but he's not backing down.

And at least one thing is true. What CAN that boy destroy anymore Thomas hasn't already lost? There's nothing.

The next day he's sincerely hung over and regrets life choices like always. At least people let him hang around in his zombie state. Barrow is off somewhere, but when he moves around the small house and follows rummaging and scattered metal sounds he finds Cal on the porch, sleeves rolled up and hands dirty. There's a girl with him, little older than Thomas. Her amber eyes take in everything. He thinks he's seen her before and remembers her name after a few long seconds of staring. Ada something.

She holds a screwdriver. "If you tweak it, it will last longer, I have seen it before."

"True, but if you don't fix the damage, the engine can't-"

The words bring Thomas back to the morning he tried to fix the pedal and he feels like vomiting again because everything in his life seems to be about blue eyes and hands gripping him tightly.

Their eyes follow Thomas scramble along, almost falling over some metal thing on the porch.

"Sorry." He just says jumping over the bigger parts. The agile gracefulness of a giraffe sliding over ice. The light burns through his eyelids when he narrows them. Grey light hidden behind clouds.

"Going home?"

"Yup. Need a shower. Tell Lightning to call if something comes up." He tries to smile. "I mean, you too, dude. If I can help or stuff."

"Thomas," Cal answers, slow, and Thomas thinks he'll just tell him off. "You're a good kid. You tried."

"Yeah, I guess I did. "Thomas says, not believing it. "Thanks, pal."

"You wear your shirt wrong," Ada says.

Thomas stares at the hoodie, inside out. "Eh. Can sport it. Had worse."

At least there's no other call for him. Maven has vanished again, and Thomas is glad he doesn't try and call again. More and he's sure he couldn't take it.

Thomas still has to check every once in a while for another verbal or text blurb, and staring at the words and the face makes him uneasy and a little sick. Though that could still only be the hangover. He's still telling shit to people, but he's very careful in his wording.

 _That's what I thought_ , Thomas thinks.  _Don't want to get me to spill the beans, pretty boy._

He's not exactly proud to be in some crazy choke hold, threatening with dirty laundry and blackmailing. But if that's what it takes, he will take out all the trash and truths he can find. Oh boy, where to start.

Thomas doesn't think it will truly be the end. But one can hope.

He doesn't leave his bed for two days, curled up on his arm.

"This isn't healthy, Tommy." His sister says when she finds him on his spot at the window, staring at his cracked phone. "Have you eaten today at all?"

"When was I ever?" he huffs." I'm not hungry."

"I'll get Cameron to beat you up."

"Yeah, she'll just throw the phone at the wall and tell me I am an idiot. I know all about it."

" Joining in was the dumbest thing they ever let you do." She's irritated, he can see it in her face. Can't hold it against her. He lost his job and he just sits on his ass the whole day or runs around town. He's almost back to street rat low. "You can't spend your life in front of that screen and wait for this...for you know who to either lose it or come back to you."

"He's not coming back to me. Why would he?" Thomas looks at her but doesn't really see her. "And I don't wanna have him like this anyway."

He's sincerely and deeply disappointed again when the ceasefire doesn't last.

He can't really bring himself to listen to the words, but it's pretty much what he expected. It's dirty. It's poisonous. It's twisting and turning and just like every other word Maven has said in the past weeks.

For a while, Thomas just sits on his bed, unable to move, trying to concentrate hard. The anger is flaring through his body like a firework, burning his soul and singeing what little rationality is still trying to get through.

Telling someone off is probably not among the rational decisions. His finger still fly over the screen of his cracked phone.

**_I told you to leave them alone. You made a bad choice, silver prince._ **

He hasn't really anticipated anything. But the reply flies back fast.

**We'll see about that.**

Thomas is not fond at all of the way this sounds. He was hoping for surrender. But that boy wouldn't surrender if his life depended on it.  _Pride, oh yes, wrong pride, that will be your end. Let's see how deep you can fall._

**_I'll tell EVERYONE._ **

Thomas writes and feels only a little dirty. It's a warning, and maybe it's even well deserved if it turns into more. Maybe it is just a continuation of the tug of war they started long ago, on a bench. Because Thomas knows everything has consequences.

_**U wanna risk it? Want Barrow and Farley to know how ugly you can cry?** _

**Oh, Thomas.**

He can imagine the words said to his face, with the slightest shakes of his head and that tone, like Thomas knows NOTHING of this world. Sweet, sweet stupid Thomas.

Thomas wants to vomit. His hands are shaking. For a moment he leans his head against the wall, hair pressing against his face, cooling off, trying to.

When he's sure his voice isn't going to betray him he makes the decision to go through with it and just get it over. She picks up after the third ringing.

"So, Lightning," Thomas says, falling on the chair like a defeated soldier. "You want the dirt. I am ready. Where do we start? "

"You could just start at the beginning."

"Ah, well. Once upon a time" Thomas starts dry. " there was a homeless asshole and he met a pretty and awkward silver prince who had burned down a house. It was love at first sight. Well, at least for the asshole. The prince, eh. Who knows. At least he was sticking around and trying to be nice. It worked for a while. And it was the best thing ever. Until trouble kicked in."

All goes well for some more days. He feels a little satisfied because of letting it all out, all the hidden words, all the little things. Showing and exploiting another one's weakness is not what Thomas would want to. But oh please, he isn't backing down.

The fact Farley is practically ordering him to her new hideout has something concerning, and the fact she's not looking very happy is not good at all. Unhappy Farley means unhappy bunch of other people.

"Sit." she just says.  
Thomas swallows hard and sits on the uncomfortable chair, staring at the small desk and the brimming screen in front of him.  
"Mom, you're scaring me a little," he admits. "Am I grounded?"  
"You need to see something." She sits down next to him.  
"You could have just sent me a link." he huffs.  
"I think you'll be glad I called you."

Her finger hits the keys like little gunshots.

The title of the video gives him the creeps. It's something clickbaiting. There's even a broken heart emoji. A LOT of people have watched it.

Thomas stares at a familiar background and two chairs, and there's another pretty girl next to the boy he once loved.

_"There were accusations that you were involved in the tower incident."_

_"Of course there are. People planting bombs and killing in cold blood don't shy away from false testimony. I am quite positive this is coming from Mare Barrow and we both know you can't believe a word she says."_

"He crossed the line," Thomas whispers and gets up. "That's it. I'm gonna punch him."

Farley's hand grabs his shirt. "That is not why I told you to watch it."

_"But do we really want to repeat all the same arguments? We have spoken about the tower, about the Scarlet Guard and about the family and friends I lost in all these terrible tragedies and despicable acts."_

_"You lost so much. I didn't mean to pressure you."_  The girl says, looking sad and tilting her head into the camera for maximum efficiency.  _"Is there something else you want to talk about?"_

" _There is, actually._ " Maven says.  _"People accusing me of never remotely understanding the needs and the lives of Red people should know I am not acting out of spite for them. We all can keep the lives we built. If this stops now._  "

Yes, Thomas thinks. Let's keep the discrimination. The ghettoization. Let's keep the violence and the hopelessness. Keep the kids living on the streets and the families working themselves to death so you have a cozy big house with a big cozy bed and a big cozy pillow you can rest your stone cold head on.

_"There is no assurance to whatever the Guard wants. There is no political stance and no administration supporting them. You want freedom. But has anyone ever thought about more than just overthrow things? You are not helping your situation. You are supporting murderers and terrorists."_

"Oh shit, please lemme go Diana." Thomas feels sick. He wiggles in her iron grip.

"Sit and watch." She demands, not letting go.

_"And why would people believe you care to preserve their old lives?"_

_"I was friends with a red boy once."_

Thomas' mouth gapes open.

_"Granted, our history is that of the tragic kind. But he was my best friend. "_

There are a meaningful pause and a deep breath and again it's so perfectly dramatically intense Thomas is sure he's practiced his little speeches in front of a mirror.

_"We met under more dire circumstances. He was homeless and I felt inclined to help him. There were a lot of obstacles. His name is Thomas. I hope he's watching this, wherever he might be."_

"You son of a..." Thomas whispers.

The girl holds her hand in front of her mouth. 'I have so many questions right now. Would you be willing to talk about what happened?"

_"Our time is too short to explain what happened to us. But I cared for him. As it turned out, not in the way he wanted me to care. Poor Thomas fell in love with me. And he was not able to accept a refusal. He would not leave it alone. It was terrible for both of us. It destroyed any kind of bond I wanted to preserve. He never recovered from it, even when we broke things off. Take a break, I asked him. Sort your life and this feeling out. I fear he never did. He was a criminal and a homeless back then and now he has turned into something worse. His delusional state of mind is harmful."_

"That's not how it went." Thomas can't believe it. He looks over to Farley. " You know that is NOT how it went. Yeah, he wouldn't say it, but he WAS KISSING me back. He didn't- I never did anything he didn't want me- I was the one asking to take a break. I was the one going. That's what I said. That's-" Thomas can't breathe. Like the air is sucked out of the room.

"I know, Thomas." She assures him.

 _"Thomas, if you are watching, "_  Maven says.  _"And I sincerely hope you do. Please get help."_

Thomas wants to laugh and cry at the same time. "Please turn this off. Please don't make me watch it all."

She's turning the volume down but doesn't turn it off. For a moment Thomas just stares at the way Maven's mouth moves, telling a sob story that's close enough to the truth but still not completely right.

"We know how it went," Farley says and Thomas forces himself to look at her face. "But they don't care. Look at him. Look what he's doing. He's taking away any credibility from you. No one will ever believe you are not just a scorned unpredictable boy who couldn't accept no for an answer. "

"This isn't happening," Thomas whispers, nails digging into the palms of his hands. "I warned him. I freaking told him-"

"You talked to him since the incident?"

"He called ME." Thomas tries to defend himself. "And before you tell me I am an idiot, YES I KNOW."

A muscle in her neck is twitching as she grinds her teeth. "You  _warned_  him?"

"I said I would pull it all out, all the trash between us, not only the old stuff but the new one too. " Thomas pushes his hair back, out of his face. "And when I told Lightning I wrote him a text. Because I hoped.I dunno Farley,  **I hoped he'd back down**."

"Thomas how daft are you?" she stares at him with a mixture of anger and bitterness. "You couldn't have made your intentions clearer if you had stood in front of him with a sign. You are jeopardizing our work if you cannot stop running to him. You thought a warning shot would do? He caught the bullet and shoved it down your throat."

He wants to curl together and cry. Or smash something. All he does is bite his lips.

"That's not even the worst." She says. "He's done a good job pulling it up. And you're not finished with humiliation."

"Show me." He says.

"Are you sure?"

"No. But just.." Thomas sighs.

One click away stares at his own face, blue bruise and split lip. Wild and crippled hair cut, dirty clothes. Street rat Thomas has that fuck it look on the mugshot.

"What the..?" He mutters.

"You're officially as bad as all of us now." Farley says , scrolling over the text accompanying the image. "Apparently you were a drug addict, Thomas. It fits the unrequited love and the overbearing care of his Highness."

"Drug what?" His eyes wander over the shot of his slightly younger and bruised face, he can't believe the words he reads. "It was a brick and some other things I smashed!"

Unstable- he reads.

Homeless- at least that's true.

"Seriously, how is this legal? This is all LIES!"

"You think they can't buy everything with their money?" Farley closes the laptop. "Tweaking your reports to go along, so no one believes anything? This is you now, Thomas. The boy who couldn't take a no. You give him sympathy and pity."

"This can't be true." He mutters. "How many people have seen this? This is.. that's..."

"It's very real." Farley grits her teeth.

The river sings of loneliness when he decides to stop. Thomas kicks the dirt and leans down.

With an angry slosh the stone sinks into the water.

Thomas picks the next one and throws it with even more force. "Hey Lightning." He just says, not turning around to meet her eyes.

She just picks a big grey stone next to Thomas , peeling it out of the mud and throws it with so much force he didn't know her spunky small body possess. "Imagine that's his face."

"I can't believe it. I was only defending you and they threw me under the bus." He let's out an angry puff. "How is he okay with saying this shit about me? Drugs? Seriously? That's so low. I am so DONE."

"Full of bullshit, that's why." She says and smashes the stone right into the water. "Words are his thing. It's how he always turns around and creeps under your skin."

"Maven Calore is an asshole!" Thomas yells and throws again. His words echo of the water and get lost in the rushing sound.

" A backstabbing LIAR." Barrow adds.

"Fuck yes, Lightning, he is. I am DONE!"

Their hands are stained with mud when there seems to be no stone left to throw.

"Want to tag along tonight?" she asks.

"Please. I'll be good and don't weigh you down, promise."

He's early at their meeting point. Darkness clouds the roof top. He pulls his hood deep into his face. A faintly familiar tawny head appears in his side when he's done climbing.

"Hey Fish boy," He decides to greet, trying to be at least a little bit confident.

"Hey Inky." Warren says, not even blinking.

Thomas huffs. That name will probably stick for the rest of his life.

" Make room Warren."

The space is barely big enough for two people, but since there isn't much to Thomas and he's used to squeezing through he gets on the railing and stares down.

"Heard about that addict thing." Warren says and Thomas takes a deep breath.

"Yeah who hasn't? "

"Will you get through?"

Thomas glares over suspicious because no one ever really asks anymore and if they do they know he will laugh it off. And he and Fish boy aren't particularly close.

"Eh, have to take a shot." He says in the worst attempt to make a pun.

For the slightest of seconds Thomas can't say if he actually smiles or frowns in the half light. Something in him curls together and waits for an answer that will shut him off. He certainly didn't think there will be a comeback. "Better don't blow it."

"Don't crack me up, Warren." Thomas musters, lips tugging up.

"Why?" Kilorn Warren turns his head to look at Thomas and he catches a flash of green eyes. " I think we're on a roll."

For the first time in forever Thomas really means it when he laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta started low key crack shipping Thomas &Kilorn after this and the next draft.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
